


WHERE IS MY MIND?

by Queenoftheuniverse



Series: CLUBBING [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fighting for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenoftheuniverse/pseuds/Queenoftheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has been walking funny for a series of Saturdays so Sherlock enlists the help of DI Lestrade to get to the bottom of the mystery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WHERE IS MY MIND?

CLUBBING

FOUR

WHERE IS MY MIND?

Lestrade strode to Sherlock who was waiting impatiently for him outside the club, hunched in his Belstaff.

"He's inside." Sherlock said, cocking his head to the shiny loud entrance.

"You sure you want to do this?" Lestrade said. "He may be simply...I dunno, stripping for charity or something."

Sherlock raised and eyebrow and said, impassively.

"The way he has been walking every Saturday for the last month does not suggest stripping Detective Inspector, but rather more...nefarious activities. They have back rooms in here for all sorts of dealings."

Lestrade twisted his mouth.

"I doubt John would do anything nefarious." he said, using Sherlocks word.

"He went in half an hour ago. You took so bloody long, anything could have happened to him by now."

"I am glad you waited. It's good to have a copper along sometimes."

"Yes, well, you are not as idiotic as the rest of the force. Let's go."

Greg snickered at the backwards compliment and followed the lanky detective to the entrance of the club.

"You here for the show Gentlemen?" a large bouncer type asked, eyes behind massive shades.

"Oh yes, of course we are!" Sherlock put on an eager public school voice as Lestrade got out his wallet. He paid, they got a stamp on their hands and went inside.

"What show?" Lestrade asked. 

"I have no idea, but John is probably here for the show. He does come here every Friday."

They made their way deeper inside the club. It was a bright shiny place with a dance floor, a red pillared DJs mezzanine floor, and a lovely curved bar. But Sherlock walked on, following the signs that said "Show, Tonight"

"You are such the detective Holmes" Lestrade snickered. Sherlock ignored him.

They ended up walking down a flight of stairs where, from below, they could hear lots of voices. When they got to the bottom of the stairs there was quite a crowd milling about and cheering. Mostly men. The air was dusty and the lights were bright yellow.

In the centre of the crowd was a clear ring circled by a knee-high temporary wall. The sign on the rafters said "Fight Club".

"Well no wonder we never knew..." Lestrade quipped.

"Let's go." Sherlock said. "John abhors violence, he would not-"

He froze then.

Two men, shirtless, shoeless, stripped to their trousers, rotating around each other. They were sweaty, streaked with dust, and blood, red marks all over them. One tall bald man, one shorter blonde man. They were circling their fists, knuckles bloody, in both defence and offence.

"Bloody hell..." Lestrade murmured. "John fucking Watson."

The bare knuckle fighters chose that second to get back into it. 

John rammed his taller opponent in his unprotected ribs and got a glancing blow to his damaged shoulder for his trouble. He hissed in pain, swung again and got the man in his bicep. There was a grunt and the man staggered. John took the opportunity to give him a one-two-three combination to the abdomen. 

The crowd cheered and this seemed to incense the taller man. He came at John swinging, quite professionally. John managed to dodge three or four of the blows but he certainly felt a few. Sherlock winced and even Lestrade reacted. 

John came back with an awesome kidney punch but this made the taller man completely crazy. He came at Johns ribs and then...smashed John once, twice in the face. Johns lip split and then the corner of his eye split. Blood flew. All John could do was protect his face with his forearms, as people began to protest.

"Not the face you prick!"

"Oi mate, reign it in,"

"Ref! Face shots!!!"

A red rag fell into the ring and some of the crowd jumped over the fence to grab the big bald man off John. Others went to John and held his swaying body up.

"You know the rules Macinnon, torso only! Disqualified!" a man in a lovely black shirt, obviously the referee of this little match, yelled at Johns opponent. 

The crowd booed and yelled, but the red reg had signalled the end of the match.

Lestrade looked to Sherlock but the detective had sidled around the crowd to where John Watson was being carried. By the time John was sitting on a stool and getting the blood washed from his face Sherlock was by his side. Lestrade hurried over as well.

"John, you idiot, what the hell...?" Sherlock was saying, as he grabbed Johns chin to get a good look at the injuries. The guy washing Johns face protested but John, wincing, waved him off. He left with a nod, leaving the cloth in the basin of pinkening water.

"Sherlock, Detective Inspector, welcome to Fight Club."

"Isn't that breaking the first rule?" Lestrade joked, and Watson winced. 

"Whats going on?" Sherlock asked then, retrieving the wet cloth and tending the cut on Johns eye with a gentleness Lestrade had not seen in Sherlock before.

"I come every Friday and get the shit smacked out of me." John explained, and hissed when Sherlock tended his cut lip. "and fuck other blokes up too, sometimes."

"I have not seen injuries on you before." Lestrade said. "But Sherlock mentioned you have been walking funny this last month."

"The rules are torso only. No marks to show. Gives the game away." John explained.

"Ah, that explains why your fight was cut short." Sherlock said.

"Do you get paid?" Lestrade asked.

"No, just get my frustrations out. People bet but i don't get the money. Wouldn't take it anyway. I am just here for the fight. Pain is good, giving or receiving. Better than alcohol." John said.

"What frustrations John?" Sherlock asked, causing John to roll his good eye and stare at his friend incredulously. Lestrade snorted and covered it up with a fake cough.

"Let meeee seeee....." John started, then affected a posh voice. "Get your coat John, we have eviscerated humans to see, tea John now, yes, I used your laptop, sorry I erased all your porn and the last blog, I need all your sheets for an experiment, leave the eyeballs in the grill, breathing is boring John, yes I always play my violin for 47 hours straight...."

Lestarde by now was cracking up. Sherlock did not even pause his first aid.

"Very amusing John." was all he said.

A club patron passed John his shirt, shoes and jacket, clapping him on the back and telling him he gave a good fight. John thanked the man then absently rubbed the painful shoulder the enthusiastic man had exacerbated.

He slipped the shirt and jacket on, slid his shoes on, and Lestrade offered to give the pair a lift home. John limped a bit but he was right to walk. The ref waved to him and said a hearty "See ya next week doc!" to which John just smiled and nodded.

The air was pleasantly cool outside and John breathed it in.

"I can think of better ways to get your frustrations out. What about your knitting?" Sherlock said as they made there way to Lestrades car.

"Get a cat." Greg suggested.

"You are funny guys." John snorted.

"I was quite serious." Sherlock sniffed.

"I like the pain." John shrugged.

"There are nicer ways to get hurt John." Sherlock commented.

"Yeah, I know." John said. "But my sort of pain level is beyond most Recreational scolders."

Lestrade barked a laugh and Sherlock looked shocked. He was genuinely confused when he said: "I meant a tattoo John, or extreme sports." and Greg and John burst into laughter, John holding his ribs.

"God Sherlock, you are precious. Don't EVER change." Lestrade said.

"I don't plan to." Sherlock said. "But next week, I am betting on Watson for the win."

"Thanks Sherlock, I am touched." John said.

"Yes, in the head." Greg said then and Sherlock ignored the snorting laughs of his two friends as he marched ahead to Lestrades car.

#


End file.
